Lauren at Five Blondes posted this list of questions you should ask yourself every Sunday. The idea is to reflect on the week that's ending and help you get your new week off to the best possible start.

Tomorrow is the beginning of not only a new week but a new month. As anyone who's been keeping up knows, January bit hard for a multitude of reasons (although the last couple days have been pretty great and things are looking up significantly). I'm determined that February will be extra amazing to make up for it. I will punch a puppy in the face to ensure February is drastically better than January. Or, you know, do other stuff that doesn't involve punching a puppy.

1. What did I learn last week? How to figure out print ad sizes in columns by lines format. I know--not the most exciting thing in the world--but in the past, when someone mentioned an ad that's "eight columns by 98 lines", I was completely in the dark. Now I know THE SECRET FORMULA.
2. What was my greatest accomplishment over the past week? This is easy: working out for six hours yesterday for Bust a Move. It was pretty wild. Six hours of exercise, 850 participants, $1.1 million raised, and Richard Simmons was there. That's hard to top.
3. Which moment from last week was the most memorable and why?Again, Bust a Move was something I won't forget anytime soon.
4. What’s the #1 thing I need to accomplish this week? A good annual review at work. It's coming up on Tuesday. I'm nervous. I know I've worked super hard this year but whether or not other people agree is always up for debate.
5. What can I do right now to make the week less stressful? PLAN. I need to block out specific chunks of time to get everything done at work--not just scheduled meetings, but other jobs too. Plus I'm planning my outfits and lunches every day this week tonight. Anal? Perhaps...but that 10 minutes I don't have to spend deciding what to wear or eat in the morning is brilliant.
6. What have I struggled with in the past that might also affect the upcoming week? Stress eating for sure. We threw out a LOT of candy this weekend and I'm going to try to not come home after a stressful day to om-nom on a dozen fun-sized chocolate bars this week.
7. What was last week’s biggest time sink? Meetings that drag on and onnnn. I like meetings with an agenda and a purpose.
8. Am I carrying any excess baggage into the week that can be dropped? I'm trying to drop it. There was some dumb drama last week I'd like to forget.
9. What have I been avoiding that needs to get done? There's a doctor's appointment that I've been postponing for, um, five years.
10. What opportunities are still on the table? I've been thinking about taking on a freelance writing project in my spare time and would like to make a connection on that this week. I could use the extra money and doing something creative to get it! Also, my review at work is a perfect opportunity to talk about different things I'd like to work on and ways to grow.
11. Is there anyone I’ve been meaning to talk to? There always is. This week I'm going to email my friend Tasha. She's in the Navy and is somewhere hot and exciting (last time I heard, she was in Malta). I'm sure she'd like to get an email from home so I'll send her a note this week.
12. Is there anyone that deserves a big ‘Thank You’? Sure...Peter deserves a thank you for putting up with me during a cranky January.
13. How can I help someone else this coming week? I'm going to visit my parents this weekend and will be seeing my little sister, who's planning her wedding for July 31. I want to help her with any of the wedding prep stuff she's working on now. I know how gross it can be so if I can take any of the strain off her, I'd feel good.
14. What are my top 3 goals for the next 3 years? What happened to the week in review?? Ummm...own a home, be content with my work, have a dog.
15. Have any of my recent actions moved me closer to my goals? Yes...we've been creeping on houses we like from the real estate listings and met with the bank to get approved for a mortgage.
16. What’s the next step for each goal? Call a realtor to set up a viewing. Buy a house, so we can get a dog! And discuss opportunities during my review for the coming year.
17. What am I looking forward to during the upcoming week? My visit home--snowshoeing in the woods and relaxing!
18. What are my fears? Having a bad review at work. Projects going off the rails.
19. What am I most grateful for? Peter, friends, family, my health, my job.
20. If I knew I only had one week to live, who would I spend my time with? Pete and my family and best friends.

I love our apartment. It's big and bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows on the main level, a loft, a Jacuzzi tub and two sinks in the larger of the two bathrooms. I love the wood floors, the maple cabinets, and the big closets, but most of all I love how Peter and I picked it out together and set it up together the way we both like it. It's the first apartment that's truly felt like a home, and it's the first apartment I'm going to really miss when it's time to move out.

We had a meeting with the bank recently to find out about getting a mortgage. It seems like the time has come to start looking for a more permanent home, something we'll own, a place where we can paint the walls or rip up the floors if we're so inclined. We found out we were approved for a shockingly large mortgage ("we can buy a MANSION!") and then were brought back down to earth upon realizing how the biweekly payments would play out ("we can live on Mr. Noodles and stolen ketchup packets and buy a mansion...")

There is a LOT to think about when you start talking about buying a home, as I'm sure you homeowners know. There's the financial piece first and foremost. How much can we afford? How are interest rates going to change? What insurance should we include? Then there's the other stuff, like where we want to live. Signing a one-year apartment lease is one thing...if you aren't crazy about the neighbourhood, you can sublet or move after 12 months. Buying a home is quite another thing. And then there's agreeing on personal taste in terms of the house layout and design. Luckily we have a lot of the same decorating tastes, so that's a plus.

Some of the mandatories we can agree on include:

-it needs to have three bedrooms.
-it needs two bathrooms. One is too few and three is too many to clean.
-it needs a kitchen with lots and lots of cupboard and counter space...and a dishwasher (that's my request).
-we want a decent-sized yard.
-we both hate carpet, so we're looking for hardwood and ceramic.
-we don't want to have to do renos. We want to get the keys and be ready to live in the house. A coat of paint is OK. Tearing out the kitchen cupboards or gutting a wall isn't cool.
-it needs to be a detached house in a good neighbourhood.

Nice-to-haves (but not must-haves) are:

-a front porch
-up-and-down laundry (takes up soooo much less space!)
-stainless steel appliances
-a big corner tub
-windows with little panes...I love those
-crown moldings
-a finished basement
-a fireplace

Not too unreasonable, right? Oh, but throw in our price range. Ah ha. Ah haha. Ah hahahahaahaha. Consider the fact that one day we will PROBABLY reproduce. And that we'll have a dog. Both of which cost money. Ah ahahahahahahahaha. Over the past couple of days, I have asked myself (and Peter) repeatedly: HOW DO PEOPLE AFFORD SHIT? SERIOUSLY? We're fortunate in that we both have zero loans or debts and perfect credit and we're still a little freaked out...at least I am.

Over the next few months expect more house chatter as we start the quest to find our little nest. I have been spending every spare minute on MLS scouring the listings. It's exciting, but scary. Any advice from homeowners would be wonderful!

"...but Amy!" you say. "2010 has only just begun! Why are you doing a year in review already?"

I'll tell you why. 2010 has managed to cram so much extreme suck into less than four weeks, I'm declaring this year over. Tomorrow is January 1, 2011, and therefore I'm free from the Curse of 2010.

The past month has been one never-ending panic attack, coupled with night sweats, an ulcer on a tremendous growth spurt, and almost daily crying jags. I started the year with big aspirations, plans, and optimism. Life has managed to Chuck Norris-style roundhouse kick me in the face on a multiple-times-a-day basis since this godforsaken year began.

My coworkers and friends agree. We all want to stage a do-over of January, or, better yet, skip to 2011. It seems this year hasn't been kind to very many people I know. So...we're done with it.

So get set to flip your calendars ahead by about a dozen pages, because tomorrow is a fresh start, a new-new year, and if it takes skipping an entire 11 months in my own twisted little mind to make myself feel OK with things, so be it. I'm fine with being 11 months ahead.

Other things I'm starting to do more to maintain my sanity:

-Running like a crazy person
-Planning an all-inclusive this spring. The ultimate vacation--I'm convinced this is the only way to truly relax and not have to think while traveling. The biggest decision I want to make all week is whether to order a pina colada or a mojito.
-Reading chick lit--again, minimal thinking required
-Weekly yoga
-Scheduling a spa day and a weekend visit home
-Making to-do lists of epic proportions and doing a Napoleon Dynamite-style "yessss!" every time I cross something off.

Happy New Year! Coincidentally, there are three bottles of champagne on my kitchen counter. Auld Lang Syne, y'all.

So yesterday was Peter's birthday: the big 2-9. And I was faced with the annual conundrum of what to get him for a thoughtful and loving birthday gift. There are a number of issues at play here that make the situation way more difficult than your average birthday.

1. Peter has everything.
2. Peter doesn't give list of potential gift ideas. "You know what I like" does not count as birthday gift idea help.
3. Christmas just happened, like, less than a month ago, as much as it feels like it was in another lifetime. So Peter was just recently inundated with pressies, which means he REALLY doesn't need anything right now.

Unfortunately none of those reasons get me off the wifely birthday hook.

So what do you give the guy that has everything?

I asked a few people and the answers were pretty much unanimous...



But here's the thing. We went to The Keg for dinner, followed by birthday cake. Big dinner belly + sexy time = no. no. no. They don't mix. It's GROSS!

I needed something more materialistic. Something that Peter will look at every day and think of me fondly. The birthday gift that keeps on giving all year round.

So I settled on this:



Yeah, that's right. I gave him a Magic Bullet. Before you rag on me and tell me it's the lamest gift in the world, some points to consider: Peter likes to drink protein shakes, but he always just mixes up the gross powder with water, and it kind of resembles and tastes like pink chalk ground up in water. Plus he leaves super early for work every day and his breakfast usually consists of spoonfuls of peanut butter out of the jar. Not that there's anything wrong with that...but now he can put the peanut butter in with some yogurt, or bananas, or milk, or berries, or his Hulkamaniac protein powder, and best of all he can TAKE THE DRINK WITH HIM! He can have breakfast en route to work!

So what appears to be a stupid birthday present for a 29-year-old man is actually pretty amazing. It's the gift of fast and convenient on-the-go nutrition, day after day. What could be better than that? I'm a good wife.

My comfort zone is like one of those big round basket chairs with the plushy cushions. It's warm and cocoon-like and very hard to get out of once you've settled comfortably inside it. Yesterday, following a mini-temper tantrum that involved foot stomping and a very brisk walk with lots of yelling and kicking snow, I have come to realize that my comfort zone is probably my biggest flaw.

Every day, I go to work at the same time, taking the same route to get there, sit at the same desk, eat lunch, go home, eat dinner and go for a run...same same samesies. I talk to the same people. I make absolutely zero effort to interact with anyone outside of my coworkers, husband and friends.

I've had the same hair colour pretty much since I was born, minus the blonde years, which don't really count because they were stupid. I work hard and I'm busy but it's not like I'm clamoring to lead a pitch presentation or set aside one-on-one time with my bosses to seek feedback or guidance--I just kind of go with the flow. I listen to the same music. I don't write a novel draft because I tell myself I'll never finish it. I haven't played my piano in months because the next chapter in my music book looks hard and I know I'll be bad at it for a long time. I don't want to do anything that makes me the tiniest smidgen uncomfortable, or that I don't know if I'll excel at right away.

And that's a ridiculous way to live, so I'm going to make a point to set a different goal every week that pushes me to do something a little differently, a little extra. It can be as simple as trying a new hairstyle or as drastic as jumping out of a plane. And I'll be sharing those experiences here, good and bad.

The idea is to not fall into a too-comfy rut. The snow-kicking tantrum? Not cute. Let's try to avoid those going foward, shall we?

I remember it like it was yesterday: one day at lunch hour in grade seven, some obnoxious kid asked me, "Have you got chicken pox?" on the playground. "Yeah, I'm just getting over it..." I lied on the spot. Honestly, I just had really bad skin, the bane of my existence from age 12 to 14 or so.

I always say as an adult that I would never relive middle school--specifically grades seven and eight--for any amount of money. A billion dollars wouldn't convince me to go back to that veritable two-year hell of hormonal torture.

Every day was a rollercoaster ride of emotions and I think I literally cried, screamed at someone, fell in love and developed a new personality disorder at least once every half-hour over the entire two-year period. Plus my body started totally forsaking me. While my boobs stubbornly refused to sprout (I remember saying in grade six that I needed a bra and both my parents responded with blank stares and "what for?") everything else went completely out of whack. I went from being a scrawny kid to having this ridiculous behind overnight (which of course, I convinced myself was fat, and ate lunch maybe four times in all of Grade 8, the first of many food-related issues I've spent way too much time and energy on). And those wonderful sebaceous glands in my T-zone were sure earning their keep. I'd scrub my face four or five times a day to no avail--I had acne constantly and there was absolutely nothing I could do to make it better. Thus I became resigned to the fact that I had horrible skin and it was something I'd just have to put up with.

I've heard that formerly obese people who lose a ton of weight still look in the mirror and see themselves as "fat". I'm the same way with my skin. Long after my hormones decided to stop ruining my existence and my face stopped resembling a pizza in colour, texture, and grease production, in my mind, my skin is still in abysmal shape.

During high school I developed a habit of wearing foundation every day and that habit has never gone away. Every day, one of the first things I've done for the past decade-plus is spackle on a coat of makeup to cover up the skin on my face. It's a mask, literally and figuratively. Even at my parents' house, even on a "good skin day", I'd run to the bathroom before even emerging for breakfast to smear on foundation. Only then was I comfortable with being seen, even by the people who'd changed my dirty diapers and seen me at my absolute most embarrassing worst.

This past Christmas, that all changed. On Christmas morning I was getting ready for the day and doing that crazy let's-get-three-inches-from-the-mirror-and-examine-every-pore ritual that just screams "festive tidings". And I realized...my skin is not that bad. I dabbed a little concealer under my eyes--waking up 10 times during the night because I was excited for Santa doesn't make for the most rested look, after all--and did my regular blush-mascara-powder-lip balm routine. And, surprisingly, I thought I looked OK. I decided to start going foundation-less on weekends to give my skin a break.

Over the course of Christmas break, holiday laziness and general lack of hygiene set in, and much like I didn't wear heels OR real pants for a week and a half, I completely abandoned foundation.

On my first day back to work, I hesitated. Hanging out at home with bare skin in front of my family and husband is one thing. Facing coworkers in the notoriously detail-oriented world of advertising, which is full of pretty and put-together people who always look awesome, is quite another.

In a moment of bravado I decided to go for it. I covered up the bits that needed covering, namely those raccoon eyes, and went to work with just some powder, hoping it did a good enough job of blurring my imperfections to the point where I didn't look like a complete hot mess.

Lo and behold, no one seemed to notice. No one recoiled from my foundationless exterior. And I am proud to report that I haven't worn foundation once in 2010. My skin actually feels better, probably because it has room to breathe, which I know is a myth because skin doesn't actually BREATHE BUT YOU GET WHAT I'M SAYING. It feels more natural, cleaner, smoother. And to be frank, I feel a lot better about myself without my mask.

It's not a huge deal--it's only one product I've cut, and I'm sure my getting-ready routine is still way longer than it needs to be--but for someone who couldn't even eat breakfast in front of my mom and dad without makeup for years and years, it feels like a nice little victory.

Now, if I could only master my awful growing-out haircut and learn how to wear red lipstick without looking like a man in drag, I'd be all set.

Before Christmas, I did not own a single pair of sweatpants. I'm talking honest to God, drawstring-waist-and-elasticized-bottoms-and-softest-comfiest-fleecy-gray sweatpants. I have a few pairs of yoga pants and leggings and other gym-friendly bottoms, but no sweatpants. This year, Santa brought me a pair of very soft gray sweatpants for lounging around the house. It was a totally foreign concept to me and one I wasn't sure I supported.

Today, I put on my sweatpants for the first time, had an epiphany, and I don't think I'm going to be taking them off, ever. WHY DO PEOPLE NOT WEAR SWEATPANTS EVERYWHERE THEY GO?

A little background: I am not an overly casual dresser. I usually wear heels to the grocery store--ballet flats if I'm feeling sick or hurt-y. I think twice about stopping for gas on the way back from the gym if I'm in yoga pants and sneakers.

It's not that I'm trying to look hot at the gas station or the supermarket. It's fear of the unknown: specifically, not knowing who you'll run into. If I go out looking like a hobo I'm guaranteed to run into a) one of my bosses, b) one of my clients, c) an ex, d) a snotty girl from school. It's just the way my life goes.

So when I go out anywhere, even just to pay a bill or pick up eggs and milk, I try to be prepared to run into anyone, thereby keeping all of the above at bay. This means good basic hygiene, hair at least somewhat done, tailored clothes and nice shoes.

Until today, when out and about and see someone running errands in grungy gray sweats, I've scoffed at them for being slobs and not getting dressed properly to go out.

"Nice SWEATPANTS...it's good that she spent an entire four seconds getting ready," I'll snark as I mince around in my painful four-inch stilletos, blinking back tears while simultaneously shortening my calf muscles and destroying my spinal alignment, and otherwise guaranteeing my ass a spot in a wheelchair in probably 15 years.

Well, ladies in sweatpants, I salute you. You have been gallivanting around in comfort while I've been suffering for the sake of vanity.

You've been feeling the soft folds of fleecy fluff on your legs, just like a gentle caress from Baby Jesus himself. I've been wearing cold, stiff, scratchy fabrics. After today, everything else will feel like wearing sandpaper.

You haven't been attacked or marred by your clothing. I've had my circulation cut off by tights and had the seams of skinny jeans imprinted in the sides of my thighs for days.

You've been able to go back to the buffet table for seconds with your forgiving elasticy waistbands. I'm not able to even eat my money's worth at any buffet, thanks to punishments like belts, zippers and buckles. One plate, max. Now I can "all-you-can-eat" with the best of 'em! I'm going to eat myself SICK!

These sweatpants are definite life-changers. I don't even care who sees me wearing them, bosses, clients, exes, snobs...eat your heart out, everyone.

First of all, PETER, CALM DOWN. I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS AND THINKING "HOLY SHIT, IT'S BEEN LESS THAN THREE MONTHS AND OUR MARRIAGE IS ALL A BIG SHAM AND I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M BEING DUMPED IN A BLOG POST!!!!!!!" I love you and I love being married to you!

The thing I don't enjoy is the word wife.

I love being a wife. I love doing stereotypically wifey things, like baking and cleaning the apartment and making grocery lists. Being married is pretty much "da bomb". The kids still say "da bomb", right?

I love BEING a wife. I don't love being a WIFE.

Doesn't the word 'wife' just sound so negative? I think it conjures up images of a cranky, nagging, celibate, slovenly broad whose husband secretly (or perhaps publicly) wishes would fall into a bottomless canyon never to be heard from again.

I think there needs to be a new term to replace 'wife'. Something that doesn't bring to mind a hateful fun-spoiling housekeeper-slash-witch creature. Something that works for those of us who actually don't thrive on sucking the souls out of our hubbies.

Girlfriend is almost the right tone, but it's just a little flippant after the exchange of vows and income tax information.

I hate the term life partner, no matter who you are. Partner makes me think of square dancing, as in, "Swing your partner round and round!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!!" So that's out.

Spouse is stupid. I don't need to explain why 'spouse' is a totally stupid word.

Thesaurus.com suggests terms such as 'companion' and 'helpmate', which both totally took me to the nursing home mentally. A 'companion' is a person who comes over and reads you articles from Reader's Digest, and a 'helpmate' empties your bedpan, and frankly neither activity interests me.

From this point forward, I would like to be referred to not as a wife, but as a Forever Girlfriend. Yes, we're all monogamous and in love and devoted to each other, blah blah blah, insert definition of marriage here, but we're still having fun and making each other happy. Does a Forever Girlfriend sound like someone who nags and lets herself gain 100 pounds in the first four months and hates all her husband's friends? Would YOU want your Forever Girlfriend to fall into a bottomless canyon? Not very likely. You would love her and be excited to spend every day with her.

I'm excited about my promotion to Forever Girlfriend status. I have a feeling I'll be happy about my new position for a long, long time.

Last night, despite being exhausted and going to bed around 9:30, I got a whopping two or three hours' sleep. I was hot and sweaty and my heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it.

I'm sorry to report these symptoms aren't due to an extended bout of sexy time. This is my body's way of handling the stress the night before going back to work after Christmas vacation. Earlier in the day, I nearly spontaneously burst into tears more than once and snapped at hubby several times for no reason.

I'm not a doctor, but I am willing to go out on a limb here and say that doesn't sound very healthy.

Laying there thinking about work (as I clearly had hours and hours to do last night) I can't pinpoint what it is that agitates me so much. I have great clients, I like my coworkers and the people I report to...there are none of those horrible wonky relationships where you get sick just thinking about having to deal with that person. I like my desk. I have a new outfit to wear and fun new supplies--a brand spankin' new page-a-day shoe calendar and a fresh 2010 day planner just itching for new to-do lists to fill up the pages.

In the latter part of the year, the economy finally caught up with Atlantic Canada and we were hit quite hard in our industry, among others. I think part of my freakout stems from the fact that everything is so lean these days, and in the back of my mind there's a belief that if something were to go wrong at work, I have no options because no one else is hiring.

I'm also frightened of making a mistake at work, envisioning all these horrible scenarios where what starts off as a little error snowballs, clients get pissed off, work decreases for the agency, and once again I'm out the door.

Plus there's just the sheer laziness of Christmas break that's so hard to break out of. Since going to the Dominican in spring of '08 this was my first chance to take some time and relax.

Christmas break was wonderful--tons of baking, board games, reading, food, movies and downtime. There were snow days. There were successive days of no-pants wearing (even the stretchy skinny jeans I'm wearing to work feel like a ball and chain after blissfully soft leggings for days). Getting back into a routine is hard and this girl is not excited.

I wish I had tricks for handling these freakouts better and easing back into a routine, but I have no secrets to share. Instead, I will go into the office, settle in with a tea and my new calendars, and start by making the mother of to-do lists. I will have update calls with my clients bright and early in the day to make sure none of their needs are missed. In the afternoon I plan on plugging into last.fm and plowing through as much work as I possibly can. And tonight, I will repeat the going-to-bed-early schtick and pray that this time I'll actually nod off.

Am I the only one who requires hard drugs to return to work after a fantastic holiday?
What are your tips for staying sane?

How I Kicked Off 2010

1. Sleeping. I slept my hangover away while hubby went to see Avatar. That's about a three-hour nap. I would love to compete in a sleeping contest, because I'd win first prize, hands down.

2. Cleaning up THIS mess. Today seemed like a fitting day to trot out a new blog layout. I had fallen out of love with the old white, black, and orange three-column chaos that was my old layout. When I'd installed it, I thought three column layouts were the cat's ass. Recently, mine was looking a lot more like ass, minus the cat. It was cluttery and busy and while the new one is far from perfect, it feels cleaner and more orderly, two of my favourite adjectives.

3. Running. After my Rip van Winkle impersonation ended, I went for a run. I also signed up for this Nike+ training program (click to see it in more detail):



My plan is to spend the next 12 weeks on this training program, and move into a half-marathon plan in the spring.

Hope everyone had a fun and safe New Year's Eve and that you're kicking off 2010 in style!